


all the homo

by lqbys



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Boys Being Boys, M/M, Slice of Life, someone please save kidd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 21:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18600004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lqbys/pseuds/lqbys
Summary: Law grins likethatagain. “You’re so fucking weird, Kiddo. It’s kinda cute.”





	all the homo

**Author's Note:**

> hey look its me bringing random kiddlaw and their weird gay antics bc you motherfuckers like angsty shit too much

There’s this and there’s that. There are too many fucking fries on Law’s plate and too many unanswered and dumb questions swirling madly around Kidd’s normally peaceful mind.

He’s not his usual loud self tonight. Doesn’t really listen to Law and his rants about how neutrinos—what the _fuck_ are neutrinos—could have changed their whole entire world and how shit it is that they haven’t been able to crack down their secrets yet. 

Kidd’s wearing a simple black tank top but it feels too hot anyway. His plate is full of stuff he cannot even begin to name: burger too big for its own sake, slowly but surely falling apart.

There’s the thing, though. Le hic, you know? Law sitting right there. The uneasiness he feels, smears of red redder than his freaking hair on his cheeks, the constant clenching and unclenching of his guts. Kidd’s lips are sealed shut, albeit pouted, with an irritated frown pinching his non-existing brows. 

“For the love of God Eustass will you please _stop_ looking like you want to murder the poor fucking thing I promise it hasn’t cursed your mom yet.” 

Kidd’s head snaps up. Law’s watching—judging, really—him with all his glorious might, a very curious mix of amusement and disgust painted over his features. 

Well. He’s got _some_ rights to do so, Kidd thinks, but at the very same time sure does fucking not. It burns the tip of his tongue and he wants to say out of pure spite— _your dotted Converses are dumb as fuuuuuck and you aren’t hot at all with your damn glasses plus you know what asshole those golden loops in your ears look totally ridiculous_ but he swallows it all down. 

Law’s left eyebrow shoots up. He bares his teeth just enough, a flash of tiny sharp little things and Kidd almost feels like crying. 

Oh fuck no. He’s been _staring_.

“Like watcha see?”

Listen. Kidd’s a fairly simple kid. He doesn’t want to be here, really. Doesn’t know what the fuck made him accept going on a fast food marathon with the moody, tattooed misfit freshly arrived in town with a fuck load of weed nobody knows where it comes from but collectively suspects is cultured by his parents who are Venezuelan drug dealers _but_ he’s dumb like that and regrets fully his decisions.

All of this is fucked-up. And weird. He feels so fuckin’ weird and blames it all on Trafalgar. 

“Shut up.” 

Law points at his untouched plate. “Aren’t you gonna eat that?” 

Maybe if my guts weren’t so fucking tight, Kidd thinks. He shakes his head, growling: “Imma throw up.”

Law sighs, rolls his head harder than needed and proceeds to switch their foods in one quick, smooth motion. The fuck? Now Kidd has twenty fucking dollars’ worth of spicy crisps fries in front of him and Law’s starting to poke at the biggest burger Kidd’s ever seen. Kidd’s bewildered. How can he eat so, so much and not gain any sort of weight? Goddamn.

“Shoulda bought nothing,” Law mutters to himself. 

He knows. He knows exactly why the boy in front of him stays fit and lean. You’re an athlete and you do all these cool sports.

He swims and runs and shit. 

Kidd furiously bites down on the insides of his cheeks, looking away for what feels like the hundredth fucking time ever since he’s planted his ass down the cracked leather bench of this shitty dinner. 

“Anyway, I was saying.” Law’s voice fades in the background the more he talks.

Thing is—Kidd’s been lying to himself quite a lot, lately. 

Law’s Converses are kinda cool, he’ll give him that, and he’s just a tiny bit jealous of all _The Bigbang Theory_ patches all over his backpack. A tiny, tiny little bit. And his ink is freaking neat, Kidd can appreciate some cool art painted on some cool dude. Ah, shit. Cool dude? Fuck it. 

Grave’s already been dug pretty nice and clean any fucking way.

Law’s music taste is good though there’s no coherent order in his playlists: from dizzying speed core to weird Mongolian throat singing and chill psychedelic rap in between. And perhaps Law himself is cool. Witty, full of sarcasm. He knows all these cool random facts Kidd enjoys listening to when they hang out in the skate park and smoke weed. Bonus: god, Law’s legit super smart. Like, so smart Kidd would find it hot if it weren’t giving him headaches most times.

Like, right now.

“Hey dickwit.”

Law hits his leg underneath the table. Quick jabs at his shins. It _hurts_. “Fuck off,” Kidd hisses through his lips, lips twisted down.

He’s met with a toothy grin and his heart does a weird thing it absolutely shouldn’t in his chest. Kidd hopes to all living or dead god Law doesn’t notice the smudged crimson all over his face going up his heavily pierced ears but can he really fucking hope that? The guy’s right _there_.

Well, maybe Law does. Maybe he doesn’t. Either way, he just stuffs his mouth with fries and a bite of the hulk-burger, a curious glint in his steely gaze. 

“Got something planned next week, big boy?” 

Kidd thinks. Not really about whatever he might have planned for next thing, fuck that. But. He’s not into boys, is he? Let alone a very tall, punk, mean one—and he certainly does not think about him in _that_ way, does he?

There’s sauce above Law’s lip. Black hair getting too long, hiding his brows and curling slightly as it grows, skin looking pretty and bronze under the dinner’s shitty lightning. 

Kidd thinks it’s fascinating how Law always seems exhausted, has those bad dark circles under eyes that sometimes look too sad, too distant but _still_ manage to shine bright and warm when he speaks of polar bears and his plans of becoming the coolest surgeon ever, or how he snickers widely at Kidd’s dumb overused crude mom jokes because he’s still immature like the rest of their silly bunch.

Summer and sun—Law feels like both. Kidd hates all goddamn three.

“Yeah,” he grumbles.

It’s a lie. Law doesn’t bat an eye, leaning in slightly. “Cancel it.” 

Kidd breathes a little too sharply. Grapefruit. Punk kid’s hair smells like goddamn grapefruit.

“No.”

He looks at him funny, Einstein. Like he just knows how fucking weird he makes him feel, probably has a blast doing so. Oh fuck off.

Kidd flips him two middle fingers for no reason other than his own internal, chaotic gay monologues.

Law grins like _that_ again. “You’re so fucking weird, Kiddo. It’s kinda cute.” 

Kidd wants to die all over again.


End file.
